


Weaving Romances

by Muccamukk



Series: Tripartite Love [2]
Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Kissing, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27056572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/pseuds/Muccamukk
Summary: They tried to paper over the gaps with kisses.
Relationships: Johnny Martin/Pat Martin/Bull Randleman
Series: Tripartite Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108412
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22
Collections: Band of Boyfriends Kisstober Challenge 2020





	Weaving Romances

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Kisstober prompt: "Height Difference Kisses"
> 
> Technically a sequel to [Bread and His Name](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23773462), but can be followed without reading that.
> 
> Title from Louis Armstrong's "A Kiss to Build a Dream On."

After she'd ironed out a few misunderstandings with her boys, Pat's life was progressing nicely. She had a baby growing inside her, a home that was only a little too small, and two good men trying to outdo each other to look after her, and who only occasionally needed to be reminded that Pat had looked after herself just fine for the duration of the war.

The main problem was that they didn't see enough of each other. With Johnny going to school and working weekends, Denver working five night shifts a week, and Pat on half days and sleeping enough for two people, they only seemed to have a few hours of overlap a day.

They tried to paper over the gaps with kisses. No one had said anything, but the one leaving or arriving always kissed the other two, a reminder of the deal they'd made, and a promise for later.

Kissing Johnny felt as natural as breathing. Pat had been kissing him since he'd taken her on that long, unchaperoned walk "home from school" in the spring of '38, the one that hadn't ended up going anywhere near home for a delightfully long time. Ever since, she'd spent every moment she could scrounge alone with him, usually kissing, sometimes doing other things. She liked the way he cupped the side of her face and took his time to make sure she knew he was serious about things. He hadn't slipped her any tongue that first day, but it hadn't been long after before she'd let him.

Kissing Denver was another proposition entirely. Weeks later, he still seemed a little stunned that she wanted him back. He'd take a sharp breath and freeze for just a moment, before he'd remember that they'd all agreed. Then, Denver would carefully cup his hands around her waist to steady her and respond when she moved. He was a little better at making her moan with just his lips, more experienced, she supposed, but always so, so careful.

It'd never been like that first time again, the headless passion where one moment they'd been standing next to each other doing the dishes and talking about making dinner, and next thing Pat knew she couldn't hold herself back from the wanting and was reaching up to pull Denver down to her height and devour him. It'd been weeks in coming, since the first morning when he'd seen her in her robe, and she'd seen him notice before he blushed and looked away. That first kiss had lasted less than a minute before they'd both remembered who they were and what they were doing to Johnny, and Pat had torn herself away.

Several hours of yelling and tears later, the kissing had recommenced, but the passion had that moment had never been reclaimed. Denver seemed to regard himself as on parole, and Johnny and Pat circled him like he was a spooked horse, and any sudden movement would make him bolt.

Watching Johnny and Denver kiss—which was something Pat had never considered before she saw it, and now had to admit she enjoyed immensely—only showed the same thing. Denver would put his hand on Johnny's hip to steady him and bend down while Johnny stood on his toes and tried to show Denver that he belonged in their home, would always belong in their home. Pat didn't think much other than time was going to convince Denver, no matter what anyone said or how many times she and Johnny kissed him.

The other thing that Pat noticed was that she was getting a crick in her neck from trying.

She and Johnny were of a height, and she'd never put much thought into kissing someone who was half a foot taller than her. Johnny's solution seemed to be either to get Denver into bed as fast as possible, or to loop his arms around Denver's neck and hop up to straddle his waist while Denver held onto his ass, which worked pretty well when one wasn't seven-months pregnant and wearing a full skirt.

Pat considered the problem of height for a few days before coming back from Uncle Ronny's with the step stool she used to reach the upper filing cabinets. It wasn't much, just a sturdy wooden box about six inches high with a roofing tile nailed to it for traction.

When she got home, she put it by the front door, and then went into the bedroom, planning to strip and crawl into bed for a nap. They'd finally convinced Denver that the main bed was big enough for all of them, and he should just sleep there, not in the single in the nursery. He was there now, sleeping face down like he always did, one arm curled around the pillow, the other flung out to the side. Pat stood looking down at him for a moment, wondering again that a man could be that open and vulnerable after he'd been through so much. At least the bruises had faded, only a soft yellow blur visible on his shoulder now. Pat kissed the place lightly, and nudged at his arm until she could get under it and be pulled against his side.

"Hey," she said softly, and kissed his cheek.

Denver made a low, happy purring sound, and didn't wake up.

Pat had already drifted back into consciousness—lying in the warm curl of Denver's embrace while the bun in the oven repeatedly kicked her bladder—when Johnny came back from school and immediately tripped over the step. A hushed stream of invective followed before Johnny poked his head in the bedroom door.

Even in the dim light the curtains let in, Pat saw the pinched look that crossed Johnny's face when he saw them curled up together. It was a faint echo of the heart-breaking misery that had been carved there when he'd thought she was going to leave him for Denver, and he smoothed it away as fast as it'd appeared. In its place, Johnny wore a slightly misty smile, the look of a man who'd just remembered that he'd gotten everything he'd secretly wanted and should never have been allowed to have.

"Hey," Pat said and held out her hands to him. "Help me up?"

"Hey." Johnny took her hands and pulled her out of bed to kiss her. His hands were rough from that construction job, scraping against her skin as he caressed her face. She let her eyes drift shut and moaned as he tightened his hold and kissed her harder.

She wanted to be able to do this for hours, but at that point she _really_ had to go pee, and twisted out of his hold to flee to the bathroom.

By the time she got back, Johnny was in the process of waking Denver up. Pat couldn't see the details, but it looked like kneeling over him and doing something to Denver's ear. She left them to it, and went to catch up on her uncle's books. From the soft and then fervent moans that followed her into the kitchen, Denver was waking up fast.

Johnny came out half an hour later in just his pants and a t-shirt, looking very pleased with himself. He spread his textbooks on the kitchen table, abutting her accounts books, and proceeded to play footsie instead of studying. Pat would have glared him into behaving, except the way he was rubbing the top of his foot up and down her calf felt too good to ask him to stop. Looking across at him bed-headed and satisfied reminded her of the aftermath of countless rolls in the hay over the years.

Johnny's toe bumped into the seat of her chair, and he winced. "Reminds me," he said, "what's the box in the hall?"

"Step stool," Pat answered. "You know, so I can reach things?"

"That's what Bull's for," Johnny said, looking over Pat's shoulder to where apparently Denver was standing in the kitchen doorway.

"Sure, when he's around, and not too busy." Pat trailed her own foot up to place the arch over his crotch.

Johnny didn't look any _less_ pleased with himself than he had when he came out of the bedroom.

Denver came in and put his hand on Pat's shoulder, waiting until she tipped her face up before kissing her lightly on the mouth, then circled the table and did the same to Johnny, then crossed to the sink to start peeling potatoes for dinner. He too was just in pants and an undershirt, which stretched across his back and shoulders, showing off the muscles there, and the edge of an old scar neither of them would talk about.

Some day, Pat was going to get that story out of them. At the moment Pat wanted to ask Denver if the foreman at the rail yard had said anything about moving off nights, but the last time she'd brought it up, Denver had looked guilty and seemed to think she was blaming him for that dirty old Mr. Wilson for not giving him a promotion. So instead of saying anything, Pat just watched him work, and decided that this upside down world of coming and going would hold for a little while longer. Denver would move to a day shift just as soon as he could, and tell them the second he knew anything. Still, Pat wished he weren't going to work in a few short hours. Making this feel like a family wasn't made any easier by all three of them keeping such odd hours.

Johnny must have caught some of her discontent as she stared at Denver's back, and put his hand over hers, squeezing lightly before turning to his books in earnest.

Pat sighed and tried to make the rows of numbers in front of her reconcile. She was usually good at this, but worry and fatigue wore at the sharpness of her mind. She wished she were back in bed, curled in Denver's arms, or Johnny's, or both at once, which almost _never_ seemed to happen.

After dinner, Pat finished the books—a process that had used to take her a few hours now spread over half a day—and lay on the couch with her head in Johnny's lap, dozing lightly while he stroked her hair and listened to the radio.

She liked how they'd always been able to find quiet moments like this, scraps of time when the two of them could just relax and be together. It would have been even better if Denver were sitting on the floor with his head tipped back against Johnny's knee, not rustling around in his room getting ready for work.

Pat rolled to her feet as soon as she heard Denver's boots on the creaky board in the hall. She rushed to follow him to the front door. Denver paused, frowning, one arm fishing for the sleeve of the heavy denim work jacket he'd gotten half way on.

"Forgetting something?" Pat asked.

"Aw, well," Denver started to say, but Pat had already hooked the edge of the step with her foot and pulled it in front of him. Before he could make some excuse about not wanting to disturb her and Johnny, she stepped up onto it, looked him right in the eye, and kissed him hard.

Denver didn't have time for his usual demurral, not with both her hands buried in his curly hair and her mouth open and eager. His hands came down on her ribs instead of her waist, and he pulled her body against his, bending in a little to get around the curve of her stomach. Pat closed her eyes and moaned, the sound turning high and needy as Denver ran his hand up her back to cup the back of her neck. His hand was rough and strong, but what could have been a crushing grip was always so gentle with her, like he'd been massaging her feet the first time he'd really touched her.

Pat pulled back and said, "Wake me up when you come in, okay?"

"All right, Patty," Denver promised, and smiled.

"I like the step," Johnny said, and stepped onto it as Pat stepped down, their hands levering and steadying each other. He too kissed Denver, though less possessively than Pat had. "Stay safe," he said as Denver left.

Denver snorted, but nodded as if to promise he would.

Johnny watched him go, still standing on the step, then leaned down and kissed Pat, who stood on her toes and put her arms around his neck to steady herself.

"How often do I tell you you're the brains of this operation?" Johnny asked.

"I could stand to hear it a little more," Pat said, but her eyes were still on the door, picturing Denver walking down the dark street, lunch box clutched in his hand. "How long do you think it'll take until he believes in us?"

Johnny sighed, following her gaze like he too could see through the door into the night. Pat could see a memory of Denver's desperate arrival in his eyes. "Thick skull like Bull's? Couple more weeks, maybe until the baby comes."

Pat rapped her knuckles lightly against Johnny's temple. "What about your thick skull?" she asked.

"Hey," Johnny started to protest, but subsided on her look, and grinned at her in a way that shouldn't have been as charming as Pat always found it. "Couple more weeks, maybe until the baby comes," he repeated.

"Right." Pat got back onto the step, using the weight of her belly to knock him off it, then leaned down. "How 'bout I try convince you, huh?"

"Sounds good," Johnny said, and stood on his toes to kiss her.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out this amazing fanart by Dane: [Weaving Romances](https://anthrobrat.tumblr.com/post/638167979178213376/weaving-romances-muccamukk-band-of-brothers)


End file.
